Starting a new life and the state of our apartment

Greetings again from southern California,

Last night I had the surprise opportunity to accompany Brent and one of his caseworkers to the airport. Rather than a visiting dignitary or returning colleague, our presence at the airport was to meet and welcome a new resident of the US - a young Somali refugee. It was a great chance for me to see one of the major activities Brent has been involved in over the last two weeks, and a chance to meet one of his colleagues, a sweet, talkative older Somali woman called Amina, who has quickly endeared herself to Brent by making him a daily cup of the spiced, fragrant Somali tea friends used to make for us in the settlement.

We arrived a little after 8pm, and as the boy's arrival time approached, Amina scanned the arrivals for Somali-looking passengers with the characteristic International Organisation for Migration (IOM) sticker and bag, while telling us stories of her arrival mishaps over her career with IRC (including planes delayed until 2am - made worse by her 1hr return commute - and a refugee that, instead of coming downstairs to the arrivals lounge, instead saw the McDonalds in the terminal and was finally found there, eating, 2hrs after her plane had landed!). As the boy's arrival time came and went, Amina set off to get security clearance to go upstairs to see if he could be found waiting there (perhaps in the McDonalds), and Brent and I sat down to ironically bump into another colleague of his, Kasra, who helped us vet apartments before we arrived. Amina returned with news that the plane had been delayed, and wouldn't be coming in until 9:25. Finally, at 9:45 we were standing at the bottom of the escalator when Amina said "he's the one". 6' tall and thinner than a rail, in layers of sweatshirts with too-short arms, and the zipped-off hood of an old parka over his head (such a common sight in the refugee camps), Abdul came down the escalator. He quickly told Amina that he had phoned his family upstairs because he was lost, so she called to let them know we had found him. He was from Dadaab - one of the largest refugee camps in Africa. His family was resettled last year but he was found to have TB, and had to complete treatment before being allowed to join his family. He looked about 15, but could have been anywhere from 13-20. His eyes were deeply sunken and he looked a mixture of terrified, tired, and he told Amina, very hungry. I can only imagine all the thoughts running through his head as he stepped out of the airport and into the cool night air, hemmed in by the glowing skyscrapers of downtown San Diego. It was a precious moment to be witness to, and a good reminder that our move to this city is small beans compared to some!

Speaking of our move - I think we`re finally ready to show some photographic evidence that I do have A domestic bone in my body! Here are some before and after photos of our place, and even Brent will admit that I was left to do most of it while he was at work.

Talk to you all again soon!

Love,

Jen and Brent